


Voice of the Dark

by PaperCraneCastles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCraneCastles/pseuds/PaperCraneCastles
Summary: Darth Vader lands on Nur, expecting to meet with the Second Sister and be handed the holocron. He is displeased by what he finds.Or, the endgame Vader vs Cal fight, from Darth Vader's point of view.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 114





	Voice of the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Um. This is pure self indulgence. I have never written Vader before and it probably shows, but he is so stoic and badass and terrifying in that final scene in the game, I wanted to try and get inside his head as he encounters Cal and Cere...  
> No beta, not even proof read. Very stream of consciousness, present tense because...IDK I guess I found that the easiest way to write Vader? Anyway...hope y'all enjoy reading some crazy Sith Lord musings and Cal getting himself stabbed in the chest.

“You have failed me, Inquisitor.”

Vader is markedly unimpressed at the scene before him, his compromised Inquisitor vibrating with resignation and terror as he ignites his lightsaber, the holocron he had tasked her with retrieving clutched in the hands of a failed Padawan pretending to be a Jedi.

“Avenge us!” She gasps. Such a touching hint of bravery, right there at the end as he carves through her back as though it were paper, not metal and fabric and flesh. His Second Sister falls, all of that promise and elegance extinguished, the work of a mere moment. She sprawls to the side, and Vader spares her a momentary dispassionate glance. The two second-rate failed Jedi before him, both of them spluttering in horror at his casual violence, would have to pay for robbing him of one of his better Inquisitors. Suduri had been powerful and strong with the Dark Side, her deep desire for revenge against her Master fuelling her rage and hatred. 

Said Master, Cere Junda, he remembers. The boy with the fire-red hair and yellow saberstaff, he does not. Kestis is his name, Cal Kestis, the focus of Suduri's obsessive personality for several weeks now as she had played her games with him. The boy's dead Master had perhaps crossed paths with Skywalker once or twice, but Jaro Tapal is not immediately memorable to Vader as Junda raises her stolen red lightsaber.

“Cal...run!” She surges forward, her desperation to save the Padawan – her Padawan, perhaps, if she has chosen to replace Suduri with this runaway child – flaring up like a fire in the Force. He tosses her aside with a casual flick of his fingers, catching her pitifully light human body and hurling her over the edge of the gantry. He does not take his eyes off Kestis. He is, for the moment, fascinating, a boy who was hidden and now is not, forced into the spotlight by Suduri. Vader does not know the full story of how she found him, but he does know that Kestis has aligned himself firmly with the losing side now, playing at being a Jedi as he stands horrified before Vader.

“No! Cere!” He cries, voice hoarse. He is wounded, likely from his fight with the Second Sister, bruised and bleeding as he grips his lightsaber more tightly, turning his eyes back to the threat that is Darth Vader. For a moment, Vader basks in his terror, letting it wash over him and fuel the Darkness raging below the surface of his armour. Kestis takes a hesitant half step back, breathing hard, and Vader can feel his emotions in the Force as he fails to stop himself projecting.

“You would be wise to surrender.” He offers, ever the benevolent victor – Kestis has proven himself strong, killing one of his agents and besting another despite his relative youth and lack of training. He lost two Inquisitors, perhaps he would gain one. The child would crumble once Vader had tortured the Light out of him, or he would die in the process like all the others. He has all the proof he needs that all Jedi Fall, under the right pressure. None of them are completely incorruptible, none of them are infallible. None of them are good. This one's panic is visceral in the Force, his green eyes wide with fear. In a way, he reminds Vader of Kenobi, as he had looked when he had first taken Skywalker as an apprentice. Too young, too wide eyed, not ready for a Padawan that shone with Skywalker's brilliance. Kestis is like this, too, young and foolish and afraid as he raises his saber. “Yeah.” He says, voice surprisingly steady, albeit a touch fatalistic. “Probably.” And instead, he throws himself forward, golden saber raised high. Curious that he should choose yellow, as though he thinks he is some kind of guardian, some kind of hero.

Vader seizes hold of him by the neck with a sharp curl of gloved fingers, squeezing his throat as he pulls the boy towards him, towering over him as he chokes the life from him. “Feeble.” He whispers, the vocoder turning his voice into a dry bark. He has killed plenty of Padawan Jedi, their short, worthless little lives extinguished beneath his blade or his metal hands. What is one more who refused to surrender? The boy struggles, raw panic in his bulging eyes as they widen, and for the first time, Vader sees the little droid clinging to his back. His desire to destroy Kestis is stronger than his curiosity, however, and he tightens his grip, ignoring the frightened chirping of the boy's companion. 

He feels the flicker in the Force. 

Kestis is fighting back, and his power is noteworthy enough to impress Vader as he curls a fist and _pulls_ , breaking a huge chunk of pipework clean away from the wall and yanking it towards Vader. It is not difficult to stop the desperate attack, and with a snarl of rage, he hurls the boy backwards, sending him tumbling through the open door leading out of the interrogation chamber. Kestis yelps with pain, his droid screeching as he limps to his feet and staggers. Vader's lethal anger fuels him as he throws the pipe, his free hand forcing the door to remain open. He rips bits of pipe, gantry and panels from the walls and hurls them at him with such raw power they smash through everything they encountered. It is a good way to set loose some of his power, and as much as the boy has enraged him, he is enjoying flexing the Force like this, Kestis' fear and panic sweet in the air as he realises exactly what he has stood against, and exactly how powerless he is in the face of it.

Kestis runs. Cowardly, yes, but rarely did any Jedi have the spine to face him a second time, and Vader's walk is slow and confident as he follows, tearing the boy's escape route apart as he goes.

He watches the Padawan panic and scramble over the wreckage, begrudgingly admiring the nimble way he climbs and the instinct that drives him forward, the way he effortlessly listens as the Force guides his escape. It has been a long time since he has seen a powerful Jedi utilise the Force like this, and he relishes the fight he might have when he catches up. It is so rare that he finds any sort of opponent in the ranks of the rebels still throwing themselves at the Empire's walls, and it has been too long since he has drawn his saber in real combat. 

He is not expecting that much of a challenge, mind, this boy is a child. But he can appreciate Kestis' determination at least as he catches up to him at the turbolift. His droid is still screaming as he stares up at Vader, desperately pounding on the lift controls. Vader watches, curious as to where he thinks he can go, and he finally draws his saber again, the threat enough to send Kestis stumbling back and sprawling on the floor. The doors slide shut just as he plunges his blade into the durasteel, and he is forced to yank the weapon back, watching the lift surge away from him. 

Well. The boy will get a short reprieve, but he can catch up. He is a rat trapped in Vader's castle, scurrying helplessly around the tunnels. 

It is easy to corner him again, hundreds of metres down below the water level in the maintenance tunnels, his presence a bright, fierce spot in the Force as he stumbles around the fortress, and Vader is there when he pushes open the hatch door, raising his saber high and bringing a brutal blow down towards him. The boy cries out in shock, but is quick to ignite his saber and block the blow, though the sheer strength of it has his arms shaking. He stumbles back, eyes wide and panting with exertion as he blocks a second dizzying blow, legs visibly trembling as Vader brings down all the weight of his metal arm, snarling with fury. It is fascinating watching him fight, hopelessly outmatched by the Sith Lord. And yet, his survival instincts keep his saber high, even as he is driven to one knee by Vader's ferocious overhead strike. Disbelief and fear still echo in the Force as Kestis wilts under the pressure, and Vader pushes, his red blade inching closer to his face. This close, he can see every freckle on Kestis' cheeks, illuminated red and yellow beneath the light of their weapons.

And still, begrudgingly, he is fascinated with the _Light_ he can feel. Despite the fear and horror, the boy is positively radiating it, his desire to protect both himself and the holocron stashed somewhere in his robes. Vader wants to extinguish that Light, and smother it in the Dark Side.

Abruptly, pain erupts in his shoulder. He has been so focussed on the Padawan, he failed to see the little droid scrambling up his arm, and delivering a powerful shock to his neck. He lets out an angry snarl, and rips the thing from his shoulder, intending to crush it. 

But Kestis has recovered, and Vader is forced to drop the droid to counter a clumsy but effective stab that catches the side of his armour. He doesn't feel the pain. It is inconsequential in comparison to the endless agony that is this suit of hulking armour. He twists aside and grasps the boy's saber hilt in his left hand, using a burst of the force and the strength in his arm to toss him effortlessly down the hallway, where he crumples, whimpering in pain like a wounded dog. He is no threat to Vader, has failed to land any hit of consequence, and Vader is disappointed. His suit extinguishes the small fire to his internal wiring that Kestis' clumsy strike had ignited, and he takes a moment to watch the winded boy gasp on the floor.

There is no such thing as exertion, when you are Darth Vader. His breathing is regulated by the suit, and he takes a step closer. The boy calls for his fallen lightsaber with the Force, hand outstretched in desperation, and Vader almost laughs. He is still fighting, still trying to survive this encounter. Vader catches the saber easily, halting it's flight into Kestis' hand. 

The boy actually looks shocked, looking up at Vader with those wide eyes. Like Kenobi, Vader's whispering, treacherous mind supplies again. Green instead of grey, but the horror is the same, bathed in the red light of Vader's weapon the same way Kenobi's had been lit by the fires of Mustafar. 

“Surrender the holocron.” Vader says, the annoyance in his tone masked by the vocoder. He is growing tired of playing with this child now, this little pathetic creature who wants so badly to be good and reminds him too much of his former Master.

I'll never give it to you!” Kestis cries, still trying to wrestle his saber from Vader, pushing his will into the Force and pulling and pulling and pulling.

“We shall see.” Vader says, and once again, his gleeful, satisfied inflection is swallowed by the vocoder. He has all the power now, Kestis is on the ground, helpless, grasping clumsily at the Force and still and still and _still_ defying him, his resistance deliciously futile. Vader twists his hand slowly, and turns the boy's saber on him, feeling the boy's terror increasing as he deliberately makes the movement slow and menacing, crippling Kestis' Force-hold on his own weapon. 

The Padawan screams when he drives the yellow lightsaber between his ribs, catching the hilt as though he might stop what has already happened. Abruptly, Vader releases the weapon, yellow light winking out, and it falls limp in Kestis' right had as the left covers the fresh wound. He curls up on himself like a dying insect, his pain bright and vivid in the Force. 

Vader basks in it. 

He is...exquisitely good at inflicting _pain_ , and he takes another step towards Kestis' prone form. He will take the holocron by force if he has to.

Once again, he feels the Force whispering to him before the Second Sister's stolen lightsaber comes flying at the back of his head. Irritation flickers up inside him at the sheer audacity of Junda to still be alive. He knocks the saber aside, and lets her catch it, holding it up and getting herself between him and Kestis.  
“I won't let you take those children.” She snarls, hatred and anger bubbling away inside her. She is reeking of the Dark Side, and he smirks to himself, though of course the gesture is lost on the woman. Does she mean the children on the holocron? Them, and perhaps Kestis, who is still very much a little Padawan playing pretend. He blocks her four pitiful strikes, and catches her with a brutal blow with the hilt of his lightsaber, sending her toppling beside the boy. They are a sorry pair, these failed Jedi, cowering together beneath him. Still, her anger swells, and he is curious. 

So he waits.

When she pushes herself to her feet, impressively quickly, he chuckles. “Such hatred. You would have made an excellent inquisitor.” He palms his saber, and were it not for the vocoder, his tone might have been as goading as the words themselves. He watches her lips curl in a feral snarl, granting truth to his words as her anger builds and builds, mixing with Kestis' naked fear and desperation.

But it is the boy who speaks, glaring at him with such a childish little pout he almost laughs aloud. “She's stronger than that!”

Junda's hatred roils around the three of them, and he can feel it. He lets her power drive him to one knee – all the better to prove to this nauseatingly _Light_ child that he is right, and his precious friend is as Dark as her dead apprentice.

“No, no....no!” The boy is horrified, and in his anguish he pushes himself to his feet. Vader sees him wince, crumpling over the wound in his chest, his pale face a rictus of pain as he realises how much that scramble to his feet hurts him.

“Yes...” Vader teases. Something about this encounter is almost amusing, he thinks, and if Vader were to consider anything 'fun' anymore...this might come close. “Strong with the Dark Side. I can feel it inside of her.” He speaks slowly, openly taunting as he stands, once again proving just how futile their resistance is as he swings his lightsaber lazily in his hand as he begins his slow stride forward. It is time to end this – end them.

“Cere...Cere!” Kestis cries, desperate and frightened. “Hey! Listen to me!” He babbles. “You still have a choice...”

Vader sees the moment she tumbles back, away from the Dark and towards Kestis' resolute Light, and suddenly, he is angry. Kestis is not more powerful than he is, and yet his words have hauled Junda back from the knife edge of her hatred. He raises his saber to strike her down.

And she shields.

He cannot help but be surprised at the sudden trick. He has never seen this before – a Force shield, strong enough to deflect his strike. It shimmers, pale grey like a ray shield, and he is momentarily curious as to its origin. Is is a learned skill she possesses, or a desperate fluke born of her fear and survival instinct?

Whatever the shield is, she cannot hold it against a second strike, this one a stabbing blow. He pushes through the shield, the tip of his saber inching inexorably towards her face. They have nothing left, Kestis has nothing, the woman's shield is failing, flickering like a candle.

Impossibly, _impossibly,_ Kestis surges forward, the Force swelling around him, powerfully light and strong, and he shatters the transparisteel keeping the dark water around them at bay. Vader is forced to take his eyes off them as a roaring wall of water tumbles towards him. He pockets his lightsaber, and lifts his hand, narrowing his eyes behind the helmet as he pulls his power towards him wit a low growl the vocoder does not pick up. He _pushes,_ and with a trickle of savage satisfaction, the water is held at bay, bent to his will. He forces it back, backing away towards the door and keeping the tremendous force of the water away from him. 

Only once he is behind the door and away from the chaos does he let himself seethe with black, powerful fury, snarling into the darkness of the corridor. Kestis, of course, is gone.

And Darth Vader swears he is going to _find_ him.


End file.
